


Yin

by Aishuu



Category: Hikaru no Go
Genre: Community: fifthmus, For Want of a Nail, Gen, Genderswap, The Livejournal exodus, What-If
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-22
Updated: 2015-06-22
Packaged: 2018-04-05 14:27:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4183299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aishuu/pseuds/Aishuu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The soul of Touya Kouyo is meant to play Go, no matter the body it may inhabit - even if that body is female.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Yin

**Author's Note:**

  * For [macey_muse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/macey_muse/gifts).



Akira shut the door quickly to prevent the warm air from escaping. It was an unexpectedly frigid night, even for December, and Akira felt chilled to the bone. As he toed off his shoes in the genkan, he called out to see who was around.

"I'm home!" he said, but no greeting was extended in return. He checked his watch to confirm the time: half-past four. It was likely there was another study session going on. While Go was being discussed, everything else fell by the wayside, including common courtesy.

He shrugged his coat off and hung it up, and then waged a mental debate as he tried to decide if he wanted to get a snack, or if the lure of sitting in on one of his father's study sessions was greater. Despite being a teenager with a seemingly unappeasable appetite, the result was a foregone conclusion.

Akira crept into the tatami room, not drawing attention to his arrival. His father sat in front of a goban, holding court with several of his favorite students. On the very edge of the gathering, Akira's mother knelt, dressed in a lovely kimono. She was the only one who acknowledged his presence, welcoming him with a slight nod and a gesture to sit down next to her. The rest were too involved in studying the board.

Growing up, Akira had believed that every family spent every second of the day studying Go. It was only after he started to attend school that he realized his family was peculiar.

Akira leaned forward to examine the goban, and wasn't surprised to see it was a game Ogata-senpai had recently played against Morishita-meijin. Ogata had played well for an 8-dan, but Morishita had just gone above and beyond him. Ogata wasn't ready to face one of the premier players in the Go world.

Akira's father was expounding on all the stupid hands Ogata had played, and all the opportunities he had missed. Akira wasn't fond of how critical his father was, so tuned him out. Instead, he focused his attention on his mother, waiting for her to add her own thoughts.

He knew he wasn't supposed to have a favorite among his parents, but he was much closer to his mother. That could have been due, in part, to his father's great age; his mother had married a man two decades her senior, and his father had been in his fifties when Akira had been born.

He sometimes felt sorry for his mother, who was still an attractive woman in her forties. But she never complained, instead maintaining a serenity that provided the cornerstone of their home. He had never seen his mother act anything less than elegant.

The discussion started to grow heated, and Akira knew someone would have to step in before things got nasty. Sometimes he wondered why Ogata put up with his father, and visa versa, since the two of them fought like cats and dogs. They seemed to derive some kind of symbiotic masochism by tearing into each other.

Just when their argument was about to transition from nasty to unforgivable, his mother spoke up. "Perhaps he should have considered cutting at the 17-6 point," his mother suggested, her voice soft but firm.

Her words were like dousing a fire with water. The argument stopped abruptly, and the gathered professionals turned back to the board to consider the idea.

It was always like that, Akira thought with a trace of a smile on his face. Her grasp of Go was as good as his father's, if not better, but she only spoke when she had something to contribute. Her gentle, demure suggestions almost always presented the best solution to whatever problem she was faced with.

If she had been born two decades later, she might have had a chance to pursue Go professionally. While there was no outright discrimination against allowing female professionals into the leagues, the glass ceiling of the Go world had yet to be shattered. Women's tournaments had difficulty finding sponsors, and most women professionals were viewed as weaker than their male counterparts. Akira thought it was shameful that his mother would never earn the respect she deserved as a player. Instead, she only revealed her brilliance at home, in the midst of his father's study sessions.

Akira knew his father was more open-minded than most in the Go world, and did what he could to make sure his wife was able to develop her skills. He always made sure his wife was included in study sessions, and never left her behind when he was invited to participate in Go events throughout the world.

"Your mother married me for my Go, and I married her for hers," he once told his son. "She's my best rival, no matter what others may think. Go, like marriage, is meant for two people."

But the unfairness of the situation really bothered Akira. If his mother had been born male, she would have so many more opportunities, instead of being forced to ride on her husband's coattails. 

The study session wound down after another hour, and Akira felt himself relax as the last of his father's students departed, leaving him alone with his parents. His father pulled out one of his thick cigars, ignoring his mother's slight frown of disapproval as he lit it.

"So did you have a good day, boy?" His father's voice cracked from age, but his eyes were bright with cunning. Akira loved his father as a son should, but he didn't always trust the old man. He'd ended up as the butt of his father's twisted sense of humor one too many times to remain naïve. 

"It was quite good," he said. "I met with Hikaru at the salon, and we played several games."

"Ah?" His father raised an eyebrow. It had the effect of shifting his wrinkled skin in a less-than-appealing fashion. "The boy still had no interest in joining the pro world?"

Akira shrugged. He himself had become a professional only out of a sense of duty to his father. He'd learned that not all the best games were fought in the pro world – all he had to do was think of his mother to know that. "He's content with playing against me," he said. "And in the amateur tournaments."

"It's a waste of talent," his father snorted, before taking a drag on his cigar. "You should invite him over sometime for a study session."

"He won't come," Akira replied. Shindou was notoriously shy of anything involving professional Go. His introduction to the pro world had been an encounter with an irate Ogata-senpai, so Akira didn't blame him. 

"Invite him for dinner," his mother said, her lips twitching with a slight smile. "I would like to meet your friend."

Akira turned the thought over in his mind. "He might come for food," he admitted after a second. "But I'm not sure if it's a good idea – Hikaru is," he hesitated, trying to find a polite word to describe him, "rambunctious." 

"Many Go players have their own little peccadilloes," his mother said. "I'm sure it will be fine. Next Saturday would work out very well – if you want, I can call his parents to make arrangements."

Akira shut his eyes, taking a deep breath to remain calm. It wasn't worth pointing out that he was fifteen years old; his mother had made up her mind, and wouldn't be stopped until she got her way. Her quietly implacable personality was like a force of nature. "I'm sure that won't be necessary," he replied instead.

"Good," his father said, releasing a braying laugh. "I've been meaning to ask your brat of a friend a couple of questions."

"Please don't. I want him to _stay_ my friend." Akira wasn't above begging when it came to mitigating his father's pushy tendencies.

His mother set a hand on Akira's shoulder reassuringly. "We won't embarrass you, Akira," she promised, before casting a stern look at her husband. "Right?"

His father scowled, but knew better than to argue. "Yes, dear," he agreed, but his face drew itself into an unhappy frown. "Is dinner going to be ready soon?"

"Another hour, which should give you time to finish with your cigar and answer some of your fan mail," was the response.

Akira could only shake his head at his parents, amazed as always at his mother's firm control of their marriage. His father may have been the Honinbou and most respected person in the entire Japanese Go world, but none of that mattered when Kuwabara Kouko made up her mind about how things needed to be.

* * *

During dinner, his father pontificated on the state of Go world, lamenting the lack of upcoming talent with the notable exception of his son. Akira, who had heard the spiel many, many times before, tuned him out through long practice, instead letting his mind wander to his plans for later in the evening.

While Akira wasn't sure he wanted to continue to pursue professional Go for the rest of his life, he loved the game more than anything else in the world. He knew that two of the best net Go players would be meeting on line tonight, and he fully intended to watch the entire game, no matter how late it kept him up.

After finishing his homework – he needed to ensure his grades were good in case he decided to attend college – Akira turned his computer on and logged onto The Internet Go Server to witness the match. SAI was already on line, he noted, but his opponent hadn't shown yet.

Akira listened carefully, waiting for the unmistakable light-tread of his mother ascending the stairs. After the door to his mother's sewing room shut, he smiled knowingly. Less than a minute later, the renowned net Go player KOUYO appeared.

As the game opened between the two most famous Net Go players, Akira wished he had the courage to walk over to his mother's room to watch her play. But she had never told anyone that she played Net Go, and it was her secret to keep. 

The traditional institutions did not take the internet world very seriously, however, but on the Internet she could play without her face, her identity, or her sex overshadowing the strengths in her moves. Only in the Internet, where all players could be equally anonymous, was she able to shine unhindered by the stigma of her gender. She had chosen a male pseudonym to protect herself, and it wasn't Akira's place to confront her.

He shook his head, dismissing the hint of pity he felt for his mother's plight. She was a proud woman, and would not appreciate it. She had found her own way to advance her love for the game, and Akira could respect that. She had found her own rival, the Internet phenomenon SAI, who she played weekly at this time. 

It was hard not to be envious of her luck in discovering a destine rival, the someone to travel the path to the Hand of God together. Sometimes he thought Hikaru might be that someone meant for him, but Hikaru was unwilling to commit himself wholly to the game. Someday, maybe... but Hikaru's unwillingness was a factor in Akira's own reluctance to commit the rest of his life to Go alone.

As he watched the players enter the mid-game (both using hauntingly familiar styles that Akira couldn't admit he recognized as friends'), he forced himself to let himself just focus on the Go. Maybe by watching the beautiful, dazzling game, Akira might discover some of the answers he needed.

* * *

Despite his reluctance, Akira invited Hikaru to dinner. 

They were sitting in his father's Go salon, playing a game as usual. Hikaru had brought an ungodly amount of sweets and spread them out on the table, having learned from experience that Go salons didn't serve much in the way of food. They'd just finished a game of speed Go (which Akira won by the skin of his teeth) when he decided it was time to ask. "My mother would like to meet you," he said. "Can you come to dinner on Saturday?"

Hikaru laughed at that. "Why now?"

It was a good question, since they'd been friends for going on three years. Well, Hikaru would call them friends; it had taken Akira much longer to reconcile himself to that somewhat unbelievable fact. Aside from Go, the two had little in common.

"No idea, but my mother is going to call yours to make arrangements if we don't set it up ourselves," Akira told him. It was embarrassing, but Kouko never concerned herself with teenage dignity. She was an efficient person, taking the direct route with extreme grace and manners.

And she always got her way, so there was no fighting it.

Hikaru blinked. "She wants to call my parents? It's not like you're asking me out on a date, are you?"

Akira rolled his eyes, before stealing a stick of Hikaru's pocky. "I'm not? Because right after you meet my parents, we're going to have a white wedding and honeymoon in Baghdad."

That provoked a snicker from Hikaru. "You know, you're starting to get better with the sarcasm thing. That was almost decent, though your delivery could use more work."

Akira just shook his head, not deigning to reply. He'd been a serious child growing up, and despite his father's occasional snarky comments, he'd never really joked around before. Becoming friends with Hikaru had changed that. Sometimes Akira wondered if it was a change for the better or not. "Can you come or not?" 

"Sure. My grandfather taught me never to turn down free food."

So that was how it came to pass that Akira was pacing in his room, at ten minutes to six on Saturday. He really wanted his friend to like his parents, but was realistic about the chances. The couple of times Hikaru had encountered his father at the salon hadn't gone well, and Hikaru's casual nature would probably clash with his traditional mother's values. While Akira was not a pessimist by nature, he believed that this night wouldn't end favorably.

His father was outside on the porch that overlooked the koi pond, despite the cold weather. His mother didn't approve of smoking inside the house, claiming the scent permeated the tatami mats. This was good for Akira, since it offered the opportunity to present Hikaru to his mother without his father's involvement. His father just couldn't resist teasing people, and Hikaru's probable retorts would be equally unpleasant.

He pulled on his collar, and tugged his sleeves down to cover his wrists, fidgeting as he waited. He was a patient person, but he wished this night was over. Glancing at the clock, he noted that Hikaru was due to arrive in five minutes, assuming he didn't get lost or wasn't running late. 

When the doorbell rang eight minutes later, Akira rushed down the stairs to be the one to greet his friend.

Swinging open the door, he was met with a rosy-cheeked Hikaru, wrapped tightly in yellow-and-black winter gear. The hat he wore on his head resembled a jester's, complete with bells. "Hey, Akira!" Hikaru chirped cheerfully, waving a gloved hand. "Thank you very much for inviting me."

"Thank you for coming," he said, stepping back so Hikaru could remove his shoes. He took Hikaru's outerwear and hung it in the closet, before motioning for Hikaru to follow. "We can wait in the tatami room."

"My mother gave me some cookies to offer your parents," Hikaru said, holding out a neatly-wrapped purple box.

"I'll introduce you in a moment." He showed Hikaru into the tatami room and made sure he was comfortable at the kotatsu, and then went into the kitchen.

His mother was standing at the stove, preparing chicken with daikon radish. The rice cooker was open beside her, and the kettle was steaming merrily in preparation for ocha. "Mother, Hikaru is here," he said.

She nodded, untying the tasuki cord from her sleeves. "Thanks for letting me know, Akira," she said, before sailing out of the room to greet their guest. Akira followed in her wake.

Hikaru rose immediately as his hostess arrived, offering a very proper bow. "It's nice to meet you, Kuwabara-san," he said with exquisite politeness. Akira had to consciously keep his mouth from dropping in shock.

Akira's mother dipped a very slight bow in return. "It's a pleasure to meet the friend of my son."

Hikaru, to his credit, didn't flinched under her subtle scrutiny, instead extending the sweet box to Kouko. "I brought some dessert in thanks," he said.

"Thank you for your consideration," she said. "Dinner will be ready in another fifteen minutes – you and Akira can enjoy some tea while you wait. I'm sure you have plenty to talk about."

Akira turned right around to fetch cups of tea before his mother even had to ask. He was familiar with her style and doing things before she asked would win him points. His mother followed him out, offering that beneficent smile that indicated her approval.

He returned quickly enough, not surprised to see Hikaru with his legs tucked back under the kotatsu. Akira took the place across from his friend, setting down the cups. 

"Your mother..." Hikaru shook his head, looking a bit flummoxed. "Definitely not what I was expecting."

"Oh?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Why would someone like her marry your father? Was it arranged or something?" 

Akira blinked, then took a sip of his tea as an excuse to gather his thoughts. The thought had occurred to him as well; Kouko was significantly younger than his father, and still a very attractive lady. His father, garrulous by nature, didn't have the kind of personality that would attract females. But as far as Akira knew, the marriage hadn't been arranged.

"She met him at an amateur Go competition," he said. 

"Really? So she likes Go, too?"

Akira couldn't help laughing at that. "Probably as much as my father or I. I think she married him because he was the top professional."

"Wow." Hikaru's eyes wandered off to the side, an indication he was thinking heavily. "She sounds really awesome. I mean, the only girl I know who's any good at Go is Nase, but I don't think she loves go well enough to marry a geezer..." 

"Thanks," Akira said dryly. It was no secret that his father was on the wrong side of ancient, and Akira had learned not to be defensive about his father's advanced age. "Try not to bring it up like that during dinner, okay?"

Hikaru gave a wicked grin. "What will you give me?"

"I'm supposed to bribe you for good behavior?" Akira retorted. "How about allowing you to get into the salon without paying?"

"I already get.... oh. So not fair." Hikaru took a drink of his tea, wearing a comical pout.

The only proper response to that was to roll his eyes at Hikaru's childishness. "Seriously, Hikaru... try not to rise to the bait when my father teases you. It'll make dinner go much more smoothly."

Ten minutes later, his parents joined them for the meal. The dishes were perfectly presented – as if his mother would allow anything less – and they picked up their chopsticks and eagerly dug in. The food tasted just as good as it looked, and Akira found his body relaxing as he enjoyed the meal. Maybe this wouldn't turn out that badly.

Then his father spoke.

"So, Shindou-kun, have you given any thought to taken the pro exam? My offer to sponsor you is still open," his father said. He was smiling in a none-too-pleasant fashion, indicating an ulterior motive.

"Still thinking about it, Kuwabara-jiisan," Hikaru answered. "I'm still not sure I want to become a pro."

"You're acting like you'd pass it without question," Kuwabara retorted, before letting out a cackling laugh.

"I beat Akira fairly regularly, don't I?"

Akira would have snorted, if his mother hadn't been there. "One in every five matches, maybe," he corrected. "I wouldn't call that regularly."

"That's better than any of the young pros, though? When's the last time you lost to a lower-dan?"

Akira lowered his eyes, not willing to seem boastful.

"My boy's never lost to anyone under a five-dan rating since entering the pro league!" His father answered for him instead, punctuating the statement with another laugh. 

"So what? Mother still beats me on a daily basis, and she's not a professional."

His father cast a sly look at Kouko. "She's a very special lady. One in a billion – but that's no excuse for not seeking to advance in the professional world. Most of the best players in the world compete professionally."

"But not all," Akira returned. "What about SAI?"

As soon as he spoke, Akira knew he'd said the wrong thing. He was sitting in a room with two of the very few people who might have a better idea of who SAI was than anyone else, but his mother had never done anything to acknowledge her tie with SAI, and Hikaru had never acknowledge he even recognized the name. 

The silence weighed heavily in the room, and Akira wished there was a way to take back his words. His father didn't seem inclined to help, instead looking at Kouko with narrowed eyes. But she merely lifted her chopsticks, daintily eating a mouthful of rice.

"You know about SAI?" Hikaru said after a long moment. "I didn't know you were into NetGo."

"I didn't know you were," Akira replied pertly. "And most of the younger pros follow NetGo avidly, especially since SAI started playing regularly."

None of the Kuwabara family could miss the way Hikaru shifted in his seat, squirming with discomfort. "Oh," he said, "I thought NetGo was too casual for you. I mean, the games don't count for anything..."

"All games count," Kouko said softly, her eyes catching Hikaru's through their sheer intensity. "Every Go player's game is changed by those they challenge, and they take another step on the road to the Hand of God."

It was really weird to watch his mother stare at his best friend like that, Akira thought, feeling a bit uncomfortable himself. He was the one who knew the truth, about how the two regularly fought over the goban. While he wasn't convinced Hikaru was SAI, he _did_ believe his friend had, at least, studied under that master's hand.

"Playing Go online is a good thing, but it doesn't match the real experience," Hikaru said. "I mean, I like to watch the games SAI plays with KOUYO, but I get the feeling the games would be much better if they sat across the goban from each other, in person. There's..." he paused, tilting his head to the side as he searched for the words, "an intensity that is missing without that challenge. I'm sure SAI would love to play against KOUYO for real."

Akira could think of many ways to reply to that, but bit his tongue – literally – to keep from blurting anything out. 

"I'm sure KOUYO would like to meet SAI as well," Kouko responded, neatly resting her chopsticks across her rice bowl. "But some things are not possible; it's best to accept what we're allowed, and then pursue our goals according to what reality is. Neither player has ever indicated they want to be unmasked. We should respect that, and acknowledge that the Go they create is beautiful."

"It could be more beautiful if they met in person. I mean, it's like buying a knock-off when the real thing is available. It might be easier, but that doesn't mean it has the underlying thing that makes the thing special," Hikaru argued back. "I would love to watch a _real_ game between the two, with something important riding on the victory."

"The Internet is a very safe environment due to its anonymity," Akira agreed. "But what could they possibly offer each other that's of value?"

There was a long, hushed silence between the two, and Akira was tempted to blurt out that _he knew_ he was sitting in the room with KOUYO and SAI's apprentice. But his mother had pounded discretion into his head, and he couldn't reveal the secrets that didn't belong to him.

"The only thing of value on the Internet is anonymity," Kouko said finally, her controlled voice deeper than usual. 

"Then maybe that's what they should gamble," Kuwabara chimed in. He was smiling in a devious fashion, and suddenly Akira recognized he wasn't the only one who had suspicions of their identities. Kifu of SAI and KOUYO matches were printed and shared around the Institute freely, and Kuwabara certainly would be asked his opinion. His father had also played both Kouko and Hikaru, and was smart enough to make the connection of styles.

Akira's mother had grown unusually still, the way she did when she was thinking on something intensely. If she hadn't been breathing, he might have believed she was a statue. 

Hikaru, though, looked like he was about to have a panic attack. His pupils had dilated, his hands had gained a slight tremor and his forehead was beaded in sweat. Hikaru never responded well to surprise stress; he was perfectly willing to discuss theoretical ideas, but Kuwabara's suggestion hit uncomfortably close to home.

"Maybe it is something to consider," Kouko said, shaking herself out of her trance. "Is everyone ready for dessert?"

Akira politely acquiesced, knowing that something profound had just taken place. Maybe, maybe, if he got lucky, SAI or KOUYO would finally come out of the shadows, and become "real."

* * *

That night, when Akira logged into NetGo, he wasn't surprised to find that KOUYO had posted a challenge to the web site for SAI.

 

_SAI:_

_I challenge you to a timed match, on the first Saturday of the New Year. The loser shall have to reveal their identity to the Internet Go Forum. By raising the stakes, perhaps we can take another step together toward the Hand of God._

_Please reply to me via private message._

_\-- KOUYO_

__

Akira's breath caught in excitement as he read the proposed challenge, knowing that no matter who the victor was, he would be the real winner. Finally he would have a chance to talk openly about their Go with one of the two people he most valued.

Now, all he had to do was to wait for SAI's response.


End file.
